The One
by Natalilly
Summary: [CHAPTER THREE UP][ON HOLD] Ever wondered what'd happen is Sauron GOT the One ring back? Sorry if someone else has had this idea too! AU an a major spoiler. Do come read it's good! I assure you!
1. Frodo has failed

**THE ONE**

****

Ever wondered what would've happened if the one ring was restored? What would happen if Sauron had reached out somehow and caught the one ring before it went into Mount Doom?

Well, here's a speculation fic, a story of "what if?" 

Also, an immense spoiler- so If you don't know HOW the ring got into the fiery mountain- If you don't know who own the three (Elven rings) - then read no further! I'd hate for me to spoil your surprise! 

We begin from the deciding second… There's no build up to the climatic action, I just drop you straight in! Hold on!

Sam watched in horror as Gollum grappled with the invisible Mr. Frodo. The heat of the forges searing his face and drying his eyes out, and his hands clenched uselessly on the dry, dusty ground before him, dirt finding its way under his fingernails. Dirt that had never known a drop of water and gathered on his sweaty palms, caked under his chin unnoticed as the scene unfolded. The seeming alone Gollum rolled this way and that, biting the empty air, snarling and cursing in his hideous hissing language, and Sam, poor Sam watched helplessly.   
Gollum grabbed something invisible and brought it to his sharp fang rimmed mouth, eyes aglow with malicious hate- a sickly green of the prosperous that arose from the rotting dead.  

Sam didn't think- he felt the dirt give beneath him as his heart lurched, fear gripping his throat as his sluggish, starving, thirsty mind made connections- a cold premonition like an icy finger down his spine. He KNEW what Gollum planned to do. 

"Oi! Stinker! You let him go you rotten little slimy Gollum! Let him go! Don't you be biting my Master!"  His sturdy little body flew at the grappling pair, knocking them all down, precariously close to the hell light of the furnace below.  

This had been all the leeway Frodo had needed. Sam, now locked with Gollum, clutching, grasping fingers around his dry throat, felt an invisible foot in his stomach as something ran towards the cooler entrance

"Master Frodo! No sir- come back!" He cried, feeling the sharp pain of betrayal, of abandonment, uselessness. His voice died to a squeak as Gollum tightened his horrible fingers.  
"Nasssty fat hobbit! You letsss him escape uss! You letsss him escape and now HE hall get it! You horrible nasty CRUEL hobbitses!" Gollum shrieked, tearing at Sam's face as the poor hobbit struggled for air. A welcome relief when he let go, finally deciding to follow his "precious" rather then throttle Sam. 

Sam struggled up to all fours, gasping and coughing, half ragged sobs tore at him as he got o his feet and hurried after his master, his poor twisted master… 

But he slid to a stop just as he broached the cave and burst into the dim light. A horrible, icy wail made his innards freeze. His voice died in his throat, the cold, deadly flap of wings thundered through the sky, cries of triumph rent the air like vicious blades, Sam wept as he ran, terrified, but his love for Frodo overpowered, a bend in the road displayed all. The showy cloaked forms, one holding something invisible at arms length, crying its macabre message of triumph over the plains and featureless mountain side- another with a gauntleted grip on Gollum. Their steeds leered overhead, perched on rocky outcroppings like nightmarish birds of prey.

"No!" he howled, flying at the one struggling to take something away from the invisible Frodo. He hit the voluminous cloaks of the Nazgul full on, beating and stabbing with his little sword. He barely head Frodo's source less cries and objections. 

A cold steel hand grabbed him by the scruff of the neck like some disobedient puppy, and he rose from the ground fighting and sobbing. 

Gollum was now scratching at his own face repeating "You have failed! You have failed! He has it now! Bad hobbitses! Not listen to wise Sméagol!" and Frodo hung limply from the Nazgul's cold hand, eyes wide but twisted, now fully visible, scratching and tearing at the unfeeling arm that held him. Sam relaxed, closing his eyes. Frodo's wordless cries rent at him. The one ring had been taken from him by force… 

Aragorn watched as they beat back the now timid forces of Mordor, triumph surging through his veins. Where had the Nazgul gone and why so suddenly? He knew that should concern him but he had to worry about cleaning out the hosts first. 

Suddenly the evil orcs and horrors they battled from Mordor gave a mighty cheering cry, and the King's heart quailed… What new devilry was this? The troops re attacked with new vigour. Aragorn felt his doom heavy upon him… they would die here, outnumbered in the dust.   
He signalled his troops to continue the battle, hopelessly until it's inevitable end- but the remarkable happened- a relief, yet a portent that seemed more fell then the renewed vigour. A brazen iron horn rang from the towering gates, and they suddenly retreated, filing back past the ominous gates, cheering and chanting, full of bravado. 

The gates shut with a terrible clang and only the opposing forces and the dead remained.

"Gandalf, old friend, what..." he began to ask his perplexment, but the old man silenced him with a hand.  
"I do not know, Aragorn, son of Arathorn, but I do not like it one bit. There is something fiendish on the air. Recall the troops and find the wounded. We make our way back to Gondor- the riders of Rohan, tokens from the princes- all." With that, he wheeled Shadowfax into the milling and confused crowds, on the search for wounded. 

Gimli and Legolas rode upon the back of Arod beside the small form of Pippin, who lay wounded on the wagon. 

"It is indeed a blessing you found young Pippin, Friend Gimli" Legolas said into the heavy silence that fell over the column like a cloud of doom "I would sorely miss the company of one we have spent such time and effort to find."  
"Indeed, friend Legolas. I scarce believe my own luck in finding him." The silence fell again like a funeral shroud. Legolas tentively spoke again after several agonizing minutes, speaking worry that lay on his mind

"Gimli, this- dark depression concerns me so, I fear it may cast a pall on the healing of the wounded, on the spirits and mind- for if there is more fighting, why, how can these men battle with their souls leaden as such?" 

Gimli smiled in spite of himself, in spite of the same gloomy darkness that lay heavily upon him  
"Ah, my incorrigible friend Legolas! How I wish I had your light, gay heart! I do not know if we shall survive an attack- I do not know what causes this darkness, but I feel it too. Even these fields of Ithillian seem dark and dank to my heavy heart"   
"Ah me, I must confess all is not light and gay with me, either, friend, although the sights and scents of this fair place delight me so, it is in a melancholy way. I almost feel as if a winter is to descend, and spring shall never return."  
"Don not speak of that!" Both Gimli and Legolas turned about to face Gandalf as he nudged his great grey beside them. "It's an evil air that descends from Mordor that darkens you so. Do not think or speak on it! We shall return to Gondor soon."

They rode together in silence for a time, then Gandalf spoke again. "Friends, I have special missions fro you both, for I did not ride here t you just to tell you off for dark murmurings, nor to share gloom laden silence with you. We need to gather a council together. It is clear to me that whatever has occurred in Mordor- whatever or wherever the Ring barer and his quest are now; we can not face this alone. Legolas, I ask you to ride out when the sun fails and ride swiftly to the home of your father. Implore him to gather as many elves as remain and bring them to Gondor- stress the importance and speak your darkest fears. When they are upon the road, ride as swiftly, accompanied by Gimli, as I see you shall not be parted, to the Iron hills and the Lonely Mountain and set the Dwarves on the same path, this war will concern all the races of middle earth…" He spoke so gravely Gimli, stout hearted Gimli began to quail and Legolas shifted nervously on Arod's back.  Presently the elf spoke in his light fair voice, still like a small ray of light upon the darkened earth despite the doubt and fear that now lay heavily upon it.

"What of the Halflings? They have proved to be stout peoples… will you not summon them?" he placed a delicate hand on Pippins small shoulder. Gandalf looked weary.

"I have indeed thought long and hard on that, but I have not made a decision. The Hobbits know nothing of war, and the darkness shall not touch them yet… but I do not know." He sighed deeply, studying Pippin's young, blood and dirt smeared face "I am riding with Elladan and Elrohir to alert both Galadriel and Elrond, and implore their help. Rivendell is not that far from Hobbiton. I may pass by at the very least to see their situation." He sighed, and the three friends sank into silence. 

_Oooh! What happens next?   
The next chapter shall be up soon, and will concern the council of these peoples… And the fate of Frodo… Will Sauron kill him? What will the dark lord of Mordor do with Sam and Gollum? Why does he wait in silence and allow his enemies to rally?   
Find out next chapter!_


	2. The gathering of the council

**THE ONE**

**Council**

"When will they come, Gandalf, old friend?" the sky wept a filthy rain, bitter of taste and warm of touch. It had been nearly a month since the retreat from the Black gates, and the hall was crowded. Dwarves and elves, men princes and kings all packed into the room all arrayed for battle, all under a pall of hopelessness. 

Gandalf and Aragorn sat side by side staring out of the window. 

"I do not know, and I fear the worst. Lothlorien has been silent, and Elladan and Elrohir are late by three long weeks." The old wizard sighed. "No activity from Mordor- None! Yet Lorien and Imladris fail on their promises… I fear the worst…" 

Silence fell between them, silence like the sluggish murmur throughout the room. Aragorn stared out into the rain, feeling frustrated and hopeless. He wanted to beat on the glass, he wanted to howl at the dark smudge that was Mordor, scream at the merciless eye to get it over with. 

And so, locked in his own thoughts, it was natural that what his eyes were saw was ignored until a flicker of lightning re awoke his mind. He grabbed Gandalf's white clad arm.

"Gandalf! Look! There, in the dim light, do my eyes betray me, or is that a column?" he strained to see what moved in the darkness.   
The door to the hall thundered open, and Legolas, closely shadowed by Gimli ran in.

"Lord Aragorn! Lord Aragorn!" The fair elf was dripping wet, dirt smudged his face, and his golden hair fell limp across his sodden shoulders. Gimli shook out his saturated beard like a woolly coated cur  
"Upon the horizon and in the shadows, coming our way- I saw elf helms, and the fair heads of a company from Lothlorien! I ventured outside to check but I am correct… they struggle across the mire this fell rain has created… I have not seen elf columns limp in such a way… I fear some devilry…"

Aragorn was on his feet and thundering towards the door, followed by the elf and the dwarf, and Gandalf with his staff in hand. A handful of others followed, Thuandril, princes and Dwarf lords. 

They made their slippery way across the flagstone courtyard to the heavy gates  
"Open the gates!" Aragorn bellowed over the deluge, hair already plastered to his face, his heart full of fear. "There be friends in the darkness!" Never seen elf columns limp in such a way? Maybe the answer to the delay was at hand. His swallowed his fear, scolding his mind for conjuring up terrifying images and possibilities, he was borrowing worry. 

The oak and iron gates boomed open, and minute passed before a white, staggering palfrey lurched through the porthole. 

As slender as a willow wand, Galadriel slid off her horse and leaned uncharacteristically against her largely ornamental saddlebow. There was a horrified mutter as the rest of the Lorien elves staggered in, tattered, bleeding and exhausted. Some fell to the stones, others wept in relief. They were an alarming few in number.  
Aragorn hurried to the white queen's side, steadying her, his heart ice as he saw her tremble, as he beheld her haggard face and dark rimmed eyes  
"Help my people, lord Aragorn, for all you see is what remains of Lothlorien…"

***

They were in her small, private chamber. The beautiful elf queen was seated, a cup of fragrant tea in her hand, dried, but no less careworn. 

Lord Aragorn waited on by the shaken Pippin in his livery of Gondor sat across from her. Around the room was seated Eomer with Merry at his side, Thuandril and his clear eyed son, Gimli to represent the dwarves, eyes full of melancholy wonder, Faramir hand in hand with Eowyn and Gandalf the white, smoking silently in a corner. 

Galadriel seemed like a tall arum lily bettered in hailstorm, she waited, straight back for the questioning that hung as an inevitable cloud. No one seemed to want to break the silence, no one brave enough to ask what had happened to the elves- why she sat here alone. 

Gandalf, however, slowly began the questioning, after smoking his pipe almost down. 

"I'm sure you know why we're all gathered here" He said gently to her. Her ice clear eyes fell upon him "Obviously some horrible tragedy has struck… We need to know…" He was gentle, yet firm enough to get his point across. She laid down her cup with a very quite chink of china, and straitened her gown.  
"Lorien is- was, under siege." She began, her voice shimmering like crystal in the air "Not long after you left, Mithrandir, a host so large it surrounded the golden wood descended upon us." Her hands knitted in her lap "The power of the wood was not enough. Not anymore." She looked around the room like an imperial queen, yet tragic, a melody in a minor key of a queen from long ago. "He knows who has the three, Gandalf Greyheim. He fell upon the forest like wrath and his aim was clear. It is no longer a secret." She held up what seemed to everyone, a naked hand "he knows where she is, he knows she lies upon this hand. He threw away orc upon orc- monster and grotesque imaginings to get to me. Celeborn bade me flee. He ordered me away with the last of or people even as the orc blade spilled his life blood. I took the host and fled. I did it for Middle Earth and the memory of my dead husband." She shook her fair head. "I still do not fathom how the magics of my realm were defeated…"  
She stood now, tall and beautiful, like the moon in her first zenith, slender and pure. She cast aside her white remanent and all those who beheld her gasped. For she was clothed in armour fair, silvery mithril with leaves of gold upon the cuirass, she stood brave.  
"I will not run again. I will fight, and so will what is left of my people." She assured her tone left no doubt.   
"Your offer fills me with strength, lady." Aragorn assured, but Gimli had hurried forward and knelt at her feet  
"Oh lady fair! To see you drawn such, and standing like the battle Queens of old, like the fiery sun herself, I weep…" And they saw this was true, silvery tears were in his beard "Let me, if you will forgive my brashness, let me serve you as your squire- to wait upon you, now that there is a void in your life. I shall never fill the gap of the great Celeborn, not do I wish to. Serving you would bring me some hope and joy in this darkened time…"   
Galadriel smiled the first smile since the siege on her home. 

"I would be honoured, stout Gimli. Your offer brings the first smile in many weeks to my lips, and for such a gift, I would give you whatever you wish."   
Gimli took her fair hand and kissed it, then took his place behind her "you honour me." Was all he could murmur in his emotion. 

"Fair Lady, I would not draw this meeting out longer, but a question gnaws my mind…" Faramir tentively put forth.

"Ask away, young Faramir." She graciously inclined to him, then seated herself again.

"I would ask you if you know anything of the forces from Rivendell. Lord Aragorn informs us they have also been aware of tidings, and the sons of Elrond are long overdue to return."   
Her face faded back to sadness from the brief shine of joy that Gimli had sparked. 

"I fear the worst sadly. I fear Imladris suffers the same fate as Lothlorien. Ah, fair Lorien!" She sighed "I keep regular commune with Lord Elrond, yet it has been some time since I last heard from him. Nay, gentle Faramir, I fear the worst."

There was a little light talk, and some heavy about the war, about families, about the possible delays from Rivendell, but the meeting ended on a fell and worrisome air. 

***

Many days past, and still the silence from both Mordor and Rivendell prevailed. Only the foresight of the Lorien elves to bring and make Lembas at Gondor saved many from starving- and the constant rain provided water as they waited.

However, on the morning five days from when Galadriel and her party had stumbled in, the white Queen gave mixed news.   
She was sitting with the Kings, Princes and lords at a small dining table, declining to eat, yet her eyes lost in thought. All of a sudden, her eyes came up and she stood abruptly

"Rivendell comes! I hear them- oh, this news is mixed in my heart!" And she would speak no more of it.

***

  
They awaited the arrival at the huge oaken gates again, apprehensive as the pall of the last arrival hovered above their heads.

In rode the twin sons of Elrond, both battered, beaten and careworn. A curious, light sort of carriage followed, and Arwen sat at the reigns. Aragorn hurried up to her, eyes searching the column for her father.

"Arwen, Undomeil!" He ran to her side, and looked up at her. There was the stark resemblance to Galadriel… but, like a knife to his heart, it took shape in the same horrified sadness, the tired, battle weary look. Her face was smudged and her eyes red "Arwen, Arwen! Your face speaks of tears- what has befallen? Where is your father?"   
She put her fair hands to her face. Galadriel came to the other side of the carriage, her hands clenched at her sides, and he felt the presence of the Elladan and Elrohir behind him.  
"Behold my beloved, behold. I fear every moment for my father…." She stepped lightly off the carriage and opened the light awning, designed to keep off wind and rain. Galadriel closed her eyes. Aragorn's fingernails bit into his palms, and he heard Gandalf mutter an oath. Under the awning, laid out on a white bed like interior, Elrond's haggard and drawn face was coated with a thin sheen of sweat. The light coverlet could not hide the thick bandaging about his chest. His breaths rose shallowly. Aragorn's throat tightened. Elrond had been a father to him, had sacrificed his daughter for him. He had been a teacher and a friend. 

"Get him inside." The king ordered, his voice ragged and croaking, as if not been used for decades. The men paused looking at one and other, unsure. "NOW!" The King roared.

He slumped against the side of the carriage as the troops, under the twins' instruction, took the elf lord into the castle. Arwen throwing a look at Aragorn, trying to make him understand wither her eyes why she followed her father, and not greeted him Aragorn nodded a silent understanding, and she left.   
'What are we going to do Gandalf?" He asked, clenching his trembling hands together "Elrond… I never even dreamed that… Any more then Galadriel."   
"We will do the best we can, Lord Aragorn. He is not dead yet." Gandalf soothed, yet he also had a glum turn to his voice. Aragorn looked up at him  
"I feel as if I am holding sand in my fist. No matter how tight I hold it, it slips away. Elrond- the greatest healer and elf lord! It… It is pain, Gandalf. Pain. He was- IS- a father to me…"  
"Then go with his sons and daughter. The hands of a King are the hands of a healer. Do what you can."

***

The room was warmed by a fire, and the threat of Mordor seemed far off. The wound was ghastly. He was frankly surprised the elf lord had made it this far, let alone survived it in the first place.  
"You know what he holds, do you not, brother mine?" Elrohir asked, breaking Aragorn out of the horrified staring that the bloodied wound  
"Vilya, of air? Is that what you speak of?" Aragorn asked, mentally running over herbs and healing ways. The twin nodded.

"Had he not... I daren't think- but had he not, maybe this would not have befallen…"   
"Speak plain or not at all!" Aragorn snapped, then at once regretted the outburst "I am sorry... I..."

"There is no need to apologise, we understand." Elladan spoke for his brother, in the curious one conversation between two way that Aragorn, in his long years in splendid Imladris had become accustomed. 

"The orcs battled long and hard- our people repelled them at great loss. We do not know how they managed to get in, in the end- Father always told us Imladris would never fall unless Sauron hurled all his might against it. This was a mighty force, but no where near the number that father expected... of course we were complacent…" Elrohir sat down and sighed  
"They knew where to come, through the maze like building, they just knew where we were. Father managed to get Arwen to the stables in time, we fought hard…" Elladan closed his eyes, the sound of steel on steel and the harsh grunts and screams of orcs in his ears. Elrohir took up again.  
"He was unarmed, Aragorn. They were hiding in the stables- We heard Arwen scream,…" His voice trembled in pain remembered "Can you fathom the horror of seeing you blood father on the floor, seemingly dead. Seeing orcs charging towards your sister…" 

"We had already been through seeing our Mother... how the orcs had twisted and tortured her! Alas! I feared they had taken our father…"  
"They died nonetheless… we avenged our parents both in strokes and blood. Then we bade Arwen care for our father, mercy of the Valar that he still lived..."   
"We rallied the rest of the elves and fled."  
"We feared the whole journey we would lose Ada."   
They fell silent, tale told. Unusually emotional for the normally impassive twins. Aragorn swallowed hard, this fit in too closely with Galadriel's tale. He shook the cobwebs and warnings from his mind and turned to the gravely wounded lord.   
"Elrohir- could you send for hot water? Elladan, I'll need some dried Vessuali flowers- You know what they look like, please send for them…."   
He rolled up his sleeves, not quite believing.

***

***

He was terrible to behold. Your skin felt stripped from your body and your soul laid bare. Voluminous cloaks of night and red eyes that burned balefully from under the hood- a dark iron crown like helm lay upon his head. Sam trembled, his hunger and thirst forgotten. 

Days and nights were all one. Frodo was dipping in and out of feverish ravings and Gollum was no where to be seen. Indeed, since the Nazgul had snatched them all, Sam had not laid eyes upon the withered villain.   
Now and then Sauron himself came to them, as he did now, never saying a word, just watching, casting dread like a choking mist. Occasionally, Frodo would be himself enough to attack, clawing for the one, screeching. Those moments had been most painful for Sam. His master was mad- the reaving of the one had twisted his mind. 

But now, mercifully Frodo lay upon the darkened stones, his head in Sam's lap, mumbling, eyes staring blankly. 

"Master…?" An Orc came up behind Sauron, and Sam looked away from his master's face covertly, wondering why the orc spoke in common tongue. "The party from Rivendell have arrived at Gondor, Master… My lord, my liege. Reports say that the master of that elven house still lives, despite hopes of the contrary."   
"I know." The voice was cold as death "The rings still speak to me."   
"Shall we attack, master? All the rats are in the trap…"  
Sauron held up one finger.  
"Not yet, prepare the troops, but hold them. I want all the forces in Gondor to be ready. I want every ring barer and king to be aware. And I have one more, small errand…."   
The orc bowed his way out the door.

The dark lord turned slowly, and fixed Sam with his horrible, burning, rendering gaze. Sam tried to look away, but the eyes locked him where he was. He started to whimper and tried desperately to escape the look. Just when endurance had almost been driven to the brink of madness, Sauron turned his attention to Frodo

"Little Halfling, you almost brought me to the brink of destruction- and yet also returned my ring- Such a deed shall not go un punished, or unrewarded."  
Sam was helpless to move was the terrible gauntleted hand of Sauron took Frodo's limp and piteous looking hand and produced a ring- rather unlike the one that had burdened the master for the duration of this horrible, horrible quest.

"My Nazgul king was slain by the forces of Rohan, the horse lords. They shall not go unpunished for such a heinous act… But here little hobbit… You wanted the one? You shall have one of the nine…."  
Sam's howls of anguish echoed through Barad-dur.

_Okay, so I got a LITTLE carried away with it, it was SLIGHTLY longer then I intended. But it's so much FUN! _


	3. The Three

**THE ONE**

**The Three**

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NOTE: It's actually quite difficult to write these, so they take a little time- thank you all those who read them for your patience, it's greatly appreciated. I write these fics for you ;) 

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****

Galadriel knocked softly. She knew the knock was unneeded, but curtesy commanded her to do so. The fair elvish voices ceased, voiced half raised in emotion bordering on anger, an unusual emotion for an elf. She wondered fleetingly what would have brought the inhabitants of this room to such a level, but turned her thoughts politely away. It was really rather improper to dwell upon the issues of friends, unbidden. 

The beautiful ornamental door was all but thrown open. She smiled serenely at the slightly startled expression of Elladan. There was a slight crease in his brow and flush to his cheeks that spoke too loud of his heated disagreement she had overheard. He straightened, trying to mask his obvious irritation.   
"I believe your father is well?" She asked courteously, attempting to gently help him over his moment of awkward re adjustment. The twin's eyes darkened slightly, remembered heat from an argument the white queen could only guess  
"He is well." He said shortly "You are expected. Do come in." He added, quickly, remembering his manners and opening the door wider for her, offering her his arm. She smiled graciously and rested a pale hand lightly on it, gliding in with years of grace hovering over her. 

Arwen, eveningstar of her people, gazed out the window with her shoulder set stubbornly, firm steely determination emanated from her. Like everyone in the castle, there was a military air about her- hair braided in an uncommonly stiff; even her gown of white seemed strangely formal and rigid. 

Elros was slumped in a chair, watching her entrance, and more importantly, his twin, with a dark broody look of one who has a lot on his mind. His rangy legs were thrust out in front petulantly

Elrond himself was better then expected- a mercy of the fast healing powers of the elves, and of the holder of Vilya. He sat off to one side in a comfortable chair, in this rich suite set aside for guests of great import. He too showed signs of the heated argument she had overheard, a faint crease to his brow, hardness about the eyes. If she had not known her friend so, she would have merely put it down to weariness of healing.   
"Greetings, lord Elrond…" She said with a sunny smile that didn't reach the frost of her eyes "I am glad you are recovered."   
"Greetings to you Lady Galadriel." He nodded his head to her "I am recovered thanks to the healing powers of lord Aragorn. Do come in and be seated" He gestured elegantly to a seat. "Leave us." He said in a general way that held a slight lofty anger. 

His three children left the room, steel spined and icy eyed. Lord Elrond sank into his chair a little more and sighed as the door shut softly in their wake. He closed his eyes and grimaced slightly

"Children." He sighed it as a curse. Lady Galadriel smiled in sweetened sympathy, holding her silence, anticipating the reasoning for the argument before she entered. "They will not leave. Círidan would sail a ship out for them, let them join their mother- but no, they will not listen. They are steel willed and stubborn. They will not leave." He sighed as if a great pain had descended. 

Galadriel brushed his hand in gesture of pain shared.   
"You have not lost them to battle yet, lord. They are strong." She assured him, holding back the sad thought that Celeborn too, had been strong. 

Those unspoken thoughts, however, weren't as silent as she had wished, and a bitter look crossed Lord Elrond's face, his eyes penetrated hers and she knew instantly he had thought the same thing. – 

However, he remained silent in respect, she was grateful for his restraint. 

But respectful silence grew pained as it drew out longer; both wondering what could possibly follow that conversation with both taste and impact, and no hint of what they both wanted to point out to the other.

So it was a relief that bordered on physical when a light tap of a wooden staff rang through the room. Both elves looked up sharply, and Galadriel made to rise, but Gandalf didn't need anyone to open the door for him, nor did he bother with the decorum that stated he was to wait, he opened the door negligently and strode in closing it with a little flip of his hand.   
He was the picture of power, his façade of the old man discarded in this time of need. Even the elf lords were amazed at the change- even though the current persona was one they had always known the potential for in the wizened old sorcerer.

"Why the long faces my lord and lady? We are not defeated yet…" He said in way of greeting. 

A small smile broke upon the fair lady's face, and Elrond's expression lightened slightly, Gandalf chuckled and lent against his staff  
"Much better. The best way to combat such darkness is a light heart, and although our weapons are sharp in their sheaths, out major weapon is dull and forgotten."  He settled into a chair without invitation, groaning a little as he fell into the depths. His staff he lent casually against the wall he was nearest, a mere arm length away.  
"I gather it is no coincidence that we three are gathered here, and we three hold the very things Sauron wants so dear?" The wizard asked without any preamble. Galadriel straightened, hands folded in her lap demurely, but her presence anything but. Gandalf had hit upon the reasoning she had called this assembly, and cut much careful and painstaking prologue she had planned out. A blessing.

"Yes Mithrandir. I decided mayhaps we should speak together, as the remaining three, and dare I say, last remaining free ring bearers." A pall fell instantly on the room, almost like a cloak of darkness. "I decided we should hold this impromptu gathering out of the main halls- no need to dampen the spirits of the already dogged troops, and besides" She smiled this remembered amusement "Lord Aragorn bade me not to allow lord Elrond out of his suite yet." Elrond made a slightly disgusted face at this, his prolonged confinement grating upon him. 

"What would you have us speak of?" Gandalf prompted quietly.

"I would speak of many things, but first and foremost, our fear… For it is very real, and too dangerous to tiptoe about pretending it hasn't occurred to us- not planning against it just because we don't want to believe. That is foolish, and could be fatal…"

"May I ask why Lord Aragorn is not sitting in?" Gandalf moved, taking out his pipe from his white robe "Any decision made here will involve him, no doubt…" 

"Lord Elessar chose to trust us to inform him. He did not want to intrude." She said softly "He felt things might not be said if his presence were in attendance." 

"That is not true…" Elrond said quickly, stung a little by his surrogate son's lack of faith in their trust in him.

"Maybe not, but there may be other reasons he does not wish to attend. Who knows the minds of mortals?" She said smiling gently at her son in law, understanding his indignance. "But Aragorn's presence is not the reason we are gathered. We are here to discuss the possibility if the one being in the hands of the enemy once more." 

Silence. They all faced the possibility head on, and their souls shrank back.

"We do not have the forces we had during the last alliance." Elrond said regretfully "We are the only high elves that remain…" He nodded towards Galadriel "And the elven archers are from our own tattered regiments and Thuandril's. Men are dwindling, and even with the support of the dwarves, we are no match for Mordor… We cannot win a battle from that footing. We can not go on the offensive. Sauron would crush us with one mailed fist." 

Gandalf lit his pipe, his eyes lost. Galadriel frowned down at her knees as Elrond looked from one to the other penetratingly

"I take it you have something of an idea?" Galadriel said at last. Elrond leaned back and sighed heavily  
"It is not much, but it is something. We cannot win if we attack Mordor. There is no chance of it. We step out of this castle and we will be annihilated with much glee. Aragorn and the princes- the dwarf lords and our own people are gearing up for a campaign. I don't believe we should. I feel we should strengthen the defences of Gondor- the smashed defences and siege."

"A siege would take much time to prepare…" Gandalf noted, lighting his pipe "Do we have that time?"  
"No, but we have little other choice." He looked suddenly very weary "Imladris was smashed. Destroyed so utterly that the remains leave no suggestion of the beauty it once was. Lothlorien is razed. Time or no time, he will do the same to Gondor, for I have little doubt in my heart that the dark lord now holds the ring of power once more."

Slowly Gandalf nodded.

"You are right of course; it is a desperate move, but the only move we can make." He sighed and puffed his pipe, an expression that resembled pain lined his ancient features. "Are you well enough to ride, Lord Elrond? I greatly dislike forcing you into a battle ready mode when you have been so recently wounded, but we must lead the army beside the kings. We have a power that will strike fear into the hearts of those of Mordor."

Elrond nodded, shifting in his chair "I am well enough, Mithrandir, indeed, I believe I have no choice…" 

"That is settled then?" Galadriel sounded slightly shaken, yet firm. "We will ride at the head of the army, proudly bearing the banners of Lorien and Rivendell. Our rings shall be worn for eye to see."

"Do you think that's wise?" Gandalf asked suddenly cautious and narrow eyed, Galadriel sighed and smiled.

"Yes. It is a scant hope, but a hope all the same- the troops need as much as the can get. As Lord Elrond has said, I do not believe the three are secret from him any longer." 

Gandalf pursed his lips then blew air through his nose.   
"Let's do it."

***

Aragorn sat in the main hall. The Elf Lord and Lady and the white rider had been closeted away for almost the whole afternoon, and worry gnawed at his every nerve. He tried not to let it show and dishearten the men, but the air practically crackled with suspense, so it when the heavy doors at the end of the hall boomed open, he king could not control a start. 

But he was not the only one. All the men in the hall turned their faces to the doors, eyes wide, mouths agape. 

They had returned, although the appearance of both the elves and Gandalf would commend a great deal of respect from the men in the hall, it was not just their presence that drew gasps.

Galadriel wore the armour she had worn when she had spoken in her suite, Gimli trailed behind her proud. She looked every inch a warrior queen. Elrond was clad in curious armour, armour which, unbeknownst to anyone in the room, had bore him through the Last alliance. Gandalf Greyheim wore a robe whiter then snow, dazzling to the eye, over it, a polished cuirass as his only armour. But that was not all that overwhelmed the watchers. Rings shone on their fingers, as if with their own inner light Nenya whiter then any star, Vilya bluer then the sun struck ocean and Narya like the burning sun. 

Men elves and dwarves alike sank to their knees as the three passed. Aragorn rose, wonder and fear both clinging to his heart. 

"You have made a decision?" He half stated. Gandalf strode forward a pace further then the two high elves.

"We have. Prepare your men to strengthen the fortifications. We shall with stand a siege in these walls."  
Aragorn opened his mouth to protest, but the warlike garb of the trio stilled his tongue.   
"I will pass the orders. I take it some momentous decision has been made?" he said narrowly, His curiosity burned. 

"It has, Elessar, but we shall speak of it anon- away from the ears and eyes of the men or arms." Galadriel said, her voice reaching his ears only. He bowed his head  
"It is begun." He sighed, and turned to his captain to pass the orders.

_And so it has my fine friends. War is brewing… When will Mordor move to take Gondor? _


End file.
